


care and comfort

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Body Worship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, keith loves the heck out of shiro, shiro has a panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9818339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: Dressing up without paying attention to his body and how much it has changed over the course of the last year is easy enough. Learning how to shave with a fancy Altean device in the barest of light? Comparatively more difficult. But Shiro learns how to do it.It feels unnecessarily complicated sometimes. His solution that is. It would be so much easier to cover the bathroom mirror with a towel and be done with it. But that feels less like a concession and more of a loss. So, Shiro persists.--Shiro has a difficult time coming to terms with how he looks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this gorgeous fanart. [Reblog here!](https://shirosredknight.tumblr.com/post/157418135535/sheith-care-and-comfort)  
> 
> 
> This is probably RIFE with errors and typos. I'll fix them when I'm more awake

When Shiro had seen himself in a mirror after a year of captivity, disassociation had hit him with all the force of being sucker punched. 

 

He had taken a step back, back hitting the wall of the small bathroom. His breath had been shallow, heart racing. The gray eyes of the stranger widened in alarm. He was so  _ pale _ . Worryingly so. Shiro remembers thinking,  _ This guy needs to spend some time working on his tan _ . 

 

How long would he have stood there, staring at his reflection feeling increasingly dizzy and ready to faint, had Keith not come a-knocking? Hesitantly asking if Shiro was okay or needed help. Shiro had hoarsely replied he was fine, no need to worry. Then turned his back to the mirror and began stripping.

 

After a whirlwind day where they find themselves bearing a legacy whose scope none of them fully comprehend, Coran leads them to their rooms. 

 

“Not much I’m afraid but you’ll have to make do,” Coran explains as he steps through the open door. “Bed, trash receptacle, laundry chute. Press your hand here and the bathroom door with open. Like so.” He helpfully demonstrates, waving a hand into the small room. “Has all the facilities you could need and then some.”

 

Cold discomfort wriggles around in Shiro’s belly while Coran explains how the sink works, too caught up staring at the mirror on the wall above said sink. He presses his lips together, drags his eyes away from the reflective surface and listens to Coran as he ducks under Lance’s arm and steps in front of the wall across the bed. “And if you press here, the closet opens up.”

 

There’s a soft pressurized hiss before part of the door opens. Shiro flinches when he sees the back of the open door is a mirror. He’s glad he’s standing behind everyone so no one catches it, not even Keith who stands next to him. The shorter teen peers interestedly at the futuristic mirror along with the others. 

 

“It doubles as an information display,” Coran explains, pointing at the aqua text next to his reflection. “If you want you can turn the mirror function off and use it just to display information.”

 

Pidge immediately asks, “How do you do that?”

 

“Quite simple really. Just say “reflection off.”

 

Alone in his room a short while later, the two words had felt oddly heavy passing his lips. The relief that had followed when the display let out a quiet chirp before following the command? Also had been heavy. The disappointment he’d felt when the same command hadn’t worked at the bathroom mirror? Again, heavy. 

 

Dressing up without paying attention to his body and how much it has changed over the course of the last year is easy enough if Shiro’s attention is focused on the information being displayed on the open door. Learning how to shave with a fancy Altean device in the barest of light? Comparatively more difficult. But Shiro learns how to do it. 

 

It feels unnecessarily complicated sometimes. His solution that is. It would be so much easier to cover the bathroom mirror with a towel and be done with it. But that feels less like a concession and more of a loss. So, Shiro persists.

 

He’s incredibly grateful for the fact that the Castle and Lions are made of a metal that doesn’t permit reflections. It allows him to perform his duties and get through the day, no problems. The only thing Shiro needs to be kind of careful about are the large windows but if he maintains a certain distance from them...

 

So all in all, he feels he’s got his situation under control. And then, one night, when he stays over in Keith’s room, his boyfriend whispers into his hair, “You don’t like seeing your own reflection, do you?”

 

Shiro freezes, world growing cold with him. Keith tightens his grip on him but Shiro feels himself floating away, panic pulling him away faster than Keith can hold on. Black spots dance before his eyes, growing bigger and bigger as his breathing grows shorter and shorter. He’s distantly aware of what’s happening. Of Keith sitting up behind him, worry bleeding off his words and touch. Of himself weakly telling Keith it’s hard to breathe.

 

Time bleeds. Like watercolors spilling outside their designated spaces. Black overpowers everything, pressing its hands against Shiro’s ears, eyes, nose. He can’t see the gray sheets, metal walls, or the aqua accents. From a great distance, Keith says his name over and over again, prompting a weak reply from Shiro. 

 

He grabs onto it with the same desperation as a dying man clutching at a straw. It works. Gradually the darkness begins to recede. Keith’s face comes into focus. Deep blue eyes soften in relief. Shiro remembers how good a long steadying breath feel. He wriggles his toes as the cold thaws under the comforting stroke of Keith’s thumb against his knuckles. 

 

With a soft, “Sorry” Shiro gentles his grip on Keith’s hand. 

 

Keith is quick to squeeze Shiro’s fingers back, “Don’t.  _ I’m _ sorry. I didn’t think.” He raises his free hand, lets it hover uncertainly in mid-air before softly stroking Shiro’s hair down. “Are you okay?”

 

He opens his mouth, ready to crack one of his usual jokes but his weariness pours over the tiny spark of desire, snuffing it out thoroughly. So Shiro exhales and shrugs, raising a shoulder up and then down.

 

Keith presses his lips together for a long moment before asking again, softer still, “Want me to leave?”

 

Stricken, his Galra hand whirs in distress as his fingers tighten their grip on Keith’s hand. His lips are parted and open but no words come out. But the hurried shake of his head is answer enough. Keith leans forward to brush a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead before carefully returning to bed.

 

Keith never brings it up again.

 

But there’s a change in his behavior. He  _ lavishes _ Shiro’s with loving attention. Being the subject of Keith’s full and intense attention is difficult in its own right. Being the sole focus on his affections on top of that? It’s embarrassing, having  _ each and every  _ one of his scars kissed so tenderly. 

 

Shiro squirms against the sheets, hot cheeks hiding behind a cool metal arm, biting his lips to stop himself from keening. Or worse, asking Keith to stop. Gradually however, Shiro grows used to it, hiding a tremulous smile against his arm as Keith whispers sweet nothings against the ugly scar on Shiro’s shoulder.

 

He doesn’t even realize it but Keith’s words take effect. Each word, each compliment finds its way to each other. Coalescing into a shimmering, warm mass that fills a hollow-feeling in him he hadn’t even realized it existed until it was filled. Shiro hasn’t felt  _ this  _ whole since before he went to Kerberos.

 

Shiro rolls that thought round and round in his head, staring at the closed closet door in front of him. In the bathroom, Keith finishes up his shower. Evidenced by the fact that the shower has turned off. Shiro finds himself getting to his feet seconds after the rushing water noise cuts off. He presses his palm, right, against the control panel.

 

The door slides open. Aqua alphabets flicker to life against the black background. Shiro murmurs, “Reflection on.”

 

He sucks in a breath as the stranger comes into focus. No.  _ His reflection  _ comes into focus. Shiro raises a self conscious hand up to his white fringe, tugging on it with his right hand. Naturally his gaze follows the arm all the way up to the scarred joint where skin and metal connect via Druid magic. 

 

There’s a deep ache in his chest that throbs when his rough palm wraps around the joint. He looks at his reflection and feels broken. Like a shattered cup messily glued back together. It’s a wonder he doesn’t ‘leak’ more often given his poorly he’s been reformed.

 

A warm touch on his left shoulder followed by a kiss to his right shoulder makes Shiro blink in surprise. He gazes into Keith’s soft eyes in his reflection, eyes dipping down to the slim fingers that have replaced his own palm at the juncture on his arm. 

 

Keith’s arm slides forward until his elbow is snug against Shiro’s neck. With his chin pressed into Shiro’s shoulder, Keith says, “Come to bed.”

 

Exhaling in gratitude and relief, Shiro nods.

 

“Reflection off,” Keith directs at the mirror before taking a step back. His love for Keith threatens to overflow in that moment. Linking their fingers together, Keith takes another step back. And another, and pulls Shiro down into the bed. 

 

Curling himself around Keith, Shiro whispers, “Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

  
“Just being you,” Shiro closes his eyes and exhales. “For loving me.”


End file.
